Gleep's Quiet Appreciation

Gleep watched Astra, now back in her slightly-too-sparkly princess regalia, accepting the adulation of her kingdom. The starlight, once a dull shimmer, now blazed with a renewed brilliance, casting long, dancing shadows across the polished marble floors of the palace. His own spacesuit, still smelling faintly of comet dust and Gleep’s own peculiar brand of engine grease, felt ridiculously out of place amidst the regal splendor. He leaned against a rather ornate, star-shaped pillar, trying his best to blend into the background, which, for Gleep, usually meant looking as non-existent as possible.

He’d expected Astra to be… well, *more*. More regal, more effusive, more *princessy*. But she was still Astra, even with a crown perched precariously on her head. She was laughing, a bright, tinkling sound that reminded him, much to his annoyance, of the *kazoo* she’d used. She even gave a little wiggle of her shoulders, a move that would have landed her in the zero-gravity disco with a bump, but here, it just looked… happy.

A small, involuntary twitch tugged at the corner of Gleep’s mouth. It was a barely perceptible movement, a fleeting ghost of a smile. He quickly suppressed it, scowling at a particularly enthusiastic courtier who was trying to polish Astra’s tiara with what looked suspiciously like his own sleeve. Amateur.